


Iron, Ink, and Lavender

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Banter, Dancing, Flirting, Flowers, Horses, Innuendo, M/M, Romance, Scandal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-08-10 21:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Nyx Ulric is the new Lord of Galadh, oldest child of a second son who no one expected to inherit. Ignis Scientia is a discredited, dissolute rake whose reputation makes him unfit company for—basically everyone, but Nyx can't help finding him irresistibly charming. Does Mr. Scientia really deserve the social scorn he receives? Can the new Lord resist his impossible brand of charisma?





	1. Chapter 1

Hereditary nobility has never sat quite easily on the shoulders of the Ulric family, particularly those of Nyx's father, a second son who had never expected to inherit. Yet here Nyx is two untimely deaths later, better educated for horse training and outdoor pursuits than running a household. He does his best for his sister and his mother, skating past the fact that he’s somewhat uneducated about protocol with smiles and deference, relying on charisma to the last.

Nyx knows charm when he sees it, understands a smile deployed to a certain end, but this newcomer to town is equal parts cold and engaging, at once sharp and soft, and it’s completely puzzling. They’d met briefly at a dinner at the Amicitias’, and Nyx had heard Lady Elshett scolding Lord Amicita for inviting him in the first place. Nyx had wondered why he had, too, but kept it to himself. He’d been surprised, but wary, observing the contrast between the man’s reputation and his charming manners.

Nyx has no idea why the man would choose to appear here in his drawing room, though. He’d asked around after the dinner, and found quite a reputation associated with Ignis Scientia. Apparently, this relative newcomer to their corner of the countryside isn’t quite the type of man usually found in simple, polite society; he’s usually with the cardsharps and the gamblers and running with the crowd whose parties last until the wee hours of the morning, whose attendees never directly admit it, who return reeking of cigar smoke and expensive gin. Nyx grins to himself a little—he’d expect a man like Scientia to find their middling little household boring, if anything. 

After Jared’s announcement of their visitor at the door, Nyx nods at the man as he approaches to shake hands, sure some kind of devious nonsense awaits. His heels hit the floor in a slow, measured cadence. It isn't threatening...not quite. Assessing, if anything. Nyx narrows his eyes as he crosses the room, unsure what to expect. 

Scientia is well-dressed, Nyx does have to give him that—all clean, flowing lines and rich, pressed fabric. A deep blue jacket is impeccably tailored to his lean frame, showing off a trim waist and impossibly long legs. The ascot at his throat is artfully messy, a look that Nyx has no doubt took a considerable amount of time, and fastened with a pin that precisely matches the jacket. Nyx feels his gaze lingering on the sharp cut of Scientia’s jaw, and flicks his line of sight up to meet keen green eyes. 

“I am so very pleased to find you here at home, Lord Galahd.”

The words are warm, too warm, and Nyx feels those bright-jade eyes skim over his body in a manner that isn’t quite expected. His gloved hand lingers in Nyx’s, and it’s not out of respect. Nyx feels appraised. It’s odd, and he finds himself in a rare moment of being caught off guard. Not just by the title, which feels awkward and unwieldy, not least because it still feels like his father’s— a coat too big for him, still, but he supposes he ought to get used to it.

“Miss Ulric.” 

“Mr. Scientia.” Selena nods, not overly friendly, though her sharp dark eyes have undoubtedly noticed the looks that Nyx and Ignis have given each other. She makes an excuse almost immediately. Too soon for politeness, really, but she claims breezily that a household catastrophe requires her attention. The wordless look she gives Nyx as she tells him she won’t be back anytime soon, and he already feels somewhat thrown to the wolves. Wolf. Maneuvering drawing room nonsense isn’t something he’s good at, and he glares at her back, feeling betrayed.

His attention returns to their visitor. 

“I must say, it is an unexpected pleasure to find you here, but you’re very welcome.” The end of the sentence is tentative, almost a question. 

"Oh, I simply wanted to discuss a pair of horses. Argentum told me that you had some you were looking to sell." 

His accent is clipped—Tenebraean, if Nyx had to guess. Nyx’s eyes narrow, just a little. Prompto Argentum is another one of them: playboy, disreputable, not welcome in polite circles, not someone whose name anyone proper should really be dropping. The youngest of—too many sons to count, really, and hell-bent on wasting the family’s fortune, from what Nyx has heard.

Scientia levels a gaze at him in recognition: he knows. Nyx decides not to give him the shocked reaction he’s seeking, and just motions down the hall as smoothly as he can.

“This way toward the stables. We’ve got a very well-matched pair of bays—they’re beautiful, and I’m happy to show them to you.”

"Lead the way." 

Nyx gets the distinct feeling there are eyes traveling down the backside of his trousers as they walk, but when he turns his gaze back he receives only a lightly questioning look from Scientia, elegant eyebrows raised in a glance that's almost mocking, but too appreciative to be called so. 

They walk companionably enough toward the stables, and Ignis asks polite questions about the horses. Well, they  _ sound _ like polite questions at first blush, anyway. Once he starts thinking about it, Nyx really isn’t sure anymore.

“You mentioned that they are well matched. Did you mean for looks, or do they also run well together?”

Nyx nods his head; it’s a decent question. “They look well together, but they are very even in the bridle as well. They’re of a size, and…”

Scientia gives him a  _ very  _ pointed look, and Nyx trails off, clearing his throat and opening the barn door. “This way.”

Nyx leads the way to their stalls, grinning as the horses whicker and shift in greeting. He pats a couple of muzzles fondly as he goes by, passing about halfway before motioning to his guest.

“Here they are. This is Buckshot, and the other”—he motions to the adjacent stall.

“Let me guess. Birdshot?” Scientia’s lips curl at his own joke, and Nyx laughs; it’s not that funny, but his smug little look is charming, and it catches Nyx off guard.

“No, actually; it’s Alstroemeria.”

Now it’s Scientia’s turn to laugh, and he does, to beautiful effect. Nyx finds his eyes lingering on a bright flash of teeth, crinkled eyes that he’s just now noticing are a lovely shade of pale sage green, and… what were they talking about again?

“Such a lovely flower," Scientia drawls, and again Nyx feels like there's an extra meaning to his words." Are you an expert?" There’s that appraising look again; it’s frustratingly appealing, and Nyx tries to flounder through more conversation.

“My sister named Alstro; it’s her favorite flower.” There’s a brief pause, and then Nyx remembers the rest of what Scientia had said. “I’m not terrible in the garden myself, though.”

Scientia turns toward him at that, and takes two steps nearer, skimming one gloved finger across the wood-paneled wall of the barn.

“Oh, really? What’s  _ your _ favorite flower, Lord Galahd?”

“Sage.” It slips out before he can think, and it’s stupid; not even a flower. He clears his throat. “I mean—heather. We have wonderful lavender fields here.”

Scientia is quiet for a moment, watching Nyx busy himself with the horse. “That sounds lovely.”

Nyx does his best to refocus on horses. “Care to put them through their paces?” He pats Buck’s flank. 

Scientia makes a noise of assent and appreciation that makes Nyx flush bright red, and he feels those eyes travel over  _ him _ —not Buckshot. 

“I  _ would.  _ Very much so. But, I’m afraid I haven’t time for that today. Just enough time to get a good look, and what I’ve seen has pleased me. Very much.”

Six above, even the man’s voice is attractive: rich and resonant, even if Nyx doesn’t know him well enough yet to detect whether the tone is sincere. As it drops into a lower register on the last few words, Nyx looks away and busies himself leading Buck out of his stall. 

“Hold him, please, while I show you Alstro.”

A silent incline of his head and Scientia gracefully accepts Buckshot’s lead from Nyx. It’s a moment before he speaks again, quiet but smooth.

"Does one of them consistently try to take the lead, put itself… over the other, so to speak?" 

Nyx just looks at him for a moment. "No, they work well together. Why do you ask?" 

"Oh, we can't have one trying to dominate the other constantly. That works for some teams, but not what I’m looking for.” 

Nyx nods, and avoids looking up. Are they still talking about horses? "As it happens, these two are very compatible. Sometimes Alstro takes a little more lead and sometimes it's Buck, but they're not fussy about it."

"Interesting."

“Driven them four-in-hand as well, with some of our other horses; they make good leaders or wheelers, if that's what you’re looking for." Nyx shrugs. 

Scientia's eyebrows dart up."I'll admit, I had not thought of  _ that,  _ but it's a very interesting proposition. It's wonderful to know that they are so adaptable." He gently touches Buck’s flank, and the horse noses at him, friendly and outgoing. Keen green eyes meet and hold Nyx’s own over the shiny brown coat, and a saucy tilt of a chiseled jaw makes him look away again. He’s equal parts false and vulnerable, and even as Nyx is telling himself it’s all part of Scientia’s game, it strikes at his heart in a way he hadn’t expected. 

Nyx clears his throat. "Right. Well, you’ll get a chance to see that when you return, I suppose.” And just like that, he’s agreed to let Scientia back into their home. Wonderful. 

He feels more than sees a lingering emerald gaze rove over him again, and Scientia hums in agreement. 

"Yes, indeed, that would be just about perfect."

* * *

"So, what did you talk about?” Selena’s knowing glance across the table is familiar, if trying.

“Horses. I think.” Nyx can feel himself blushing, and Selena cackles. Their mother has retired early, and she’s using the lack of watchful eyes to her full advantage. 

“More your type than mine, sounds like.” Selena passes the bread to Nyx, a question in her face. 

Nyx takes the dish from her with as stern a look as he can muster. 

“None of that. I’m terrible with that kind of manipulation and innuendo, and you know it. I don’t want to play verbal chess with someone, and I don’t find it particularly attractive. People should say what they mean, and get on with it.”

Selena rolls her eyes meaningfully, and excuses herself, skirts swishing past Nyx’s back as she leaves.

He takes a large gulp of wine, scowls, and does his best to avoid thinking about high cheekbones and ridiculously upswept sandy hair. There are plenty of good-looking people in the world, he thinks. Plenty of people he finds attractive and engaging. Why waste his time on one that keeps him constantly guessing at the true meaning of every word that comes out of his mouth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incorporates prompt "flirtation" for 8/6 of Ignyx Week 2019.


	2. Chapter 2

The thrum of hoofbeats is a familiar comfort, and has Nyx sorely wishing he had more time for early morning rides. The air whips past his face; not cool in the heavy August heat, but moving air is better than still air. Warm sunshine and the meadow’s quietness seep under Nyx’s skin and make him feel free, at least for a few hours. With the usual judging eyes absent, he’s gone out in shirtsleeves and a pair of worn nankeen trousers. It’s a relief to live in his own space for a little while, and Nyx leans forward, spurring his horse faster, enjoying a rare moment of solitude and exercise.

When he hears a rollicking canter behind him, Nyx pulls up and turns. He’s met by a sleepy, sullen Tredd with the single word: "Company." Nyx laughs, nods, and sends Tredd back to the house with a slap to his mare’s haunch. Axis will be happy to have another one of the hands up early, but Tredd appears to deeply regret the early-morning knock that made Jared summon him.

Nyx strides with easy, careless energy through the house; at least, he thinks, this much has become familiar for him. He’s expecting Amicitia, or Altius, or one of his other close mates, here for an early morning ride or hunt, nothing formal. He stops in the hallway, stunned, when he realizes who has come to call.

As it is, Nyx feels almost as if he is standing there in his nightclothes compared to Scientia's elegant coif and sophisticated ensemble, an echo of his last visit and their first meeting as well. Nyx doesn’t care about his casual dress on his own behalf, of course, but he’d like to avoid embarrassing his mother if he could. 

Scientia stares, and it’s disconcerting. Nyx almost wants to turn around, make some excuse to busy himself, but the bright glare of the sun behind him would be blinding.

Nyx looks down at himself, then remembers his manners and shakes hands with his guest. As bare skin slides past white-gloved fingers, Scientia looks down, again with interest.

He peers down at the thin tattooed line following the line of Nyx’s index finger before letting go of his hand, and Scientia’s gaze flits around to the other small tattoos, under Nyx’s eye and on his cheek, that people miss, sometimes, despite their being right there.

"Were you in the service?" The curiosity isn’t rude, and Nyx doesn’t mind answering the question. He nods.

“I was, but that’s not why. It’s a family thing.” His tone is just a little dismissive; it’s not something he’s keen to talk about outside the family, but when he sees Scientia visibly retreat, Nyx feels a sting, and his next words are friendlier. 

“Have uh—have you been in the country long?”

Scientia arches one of those eyebrows at him, and Nyx laughs. It’s a shallow, slightly awkward question, but certainly he’s not going to be blamed for making light conversation. At the unspoken question and nod Scientia gives him, Nyx heads back toward the stables again.

Scientia lets out a laugh in return that’s hollow with artifice. “I find it hard to believe that the gossips didn’t announce the very moment of my presence, actually.”

So he’s aware, then, of the things people say about him. Nyx wonders how much of it is true. He wants to ask, but there’s really no polite way to do so. 

"Before you ask, _ Lord Galadh_, my reputation is entirely deserved, and not at all for the reasons you think." The bitterness underlying the jaunty tone is impossible to miss. They saddle and mount the horses in silence, but Scientia isn’t sullen. If anything, he seems a little embarrassed and stiff, the usual cultivated charm giving way to jerky movements and a diverted gaze.

Changing the subject and also making conversation, Nyx nudges Alstro into a trot, noting Scientia's easy command of Buckshot to do the same. 

"I'm still getting used to that title, you know. My father only had it for two years, and I've only had it for one."

Ignis nods in acknowledgement, looking down at Buck's neck as he navigates a knot of tree roots. "It can be jarring to adjust to a sudden change in position."

He’s suddenly sad, and Nyx wonders at the explanation for this pensive mood, but he refrains from prying. 

"Anyway, I answer just as well to Nyx and Ulric—sometimes better, if I'm honest." It is the truth, but it’s also tacit permission for a greater familiarity, and it makes Nyx slightly nervous to offer.

Among others of course, even his sister unless they were completely alone, Lord Galadh it will be for good, and Nyx does need to get used to it. But his old friends still use the old name, and Nyx wants Scientia—well, he isn't quite sure just what he wants from this man, but considering him a friend would be nice. His thoughts are interrupted by the baritone next to him.

“To answer your question, Ulric, I have been here in the countryside for a few months, and it is definitely a change.”

Nyx nods. The contrast between city and country is one he’s observed himself, during their visits now and then. “Do you miss Insomnia?”

“I do. There is a certain vibrancy to the city that I enjoy. And the entertainment is,” he shoots Nyx a dangerously charming smile, “really quite unmatched. You must tell me the next time you plan to travel to town.” His hips roll easily with the slow gait of the horse.

Damn, now Nyx is back on his heels again. Well, he’s not some green boy. He shoots his own dimpled grin back. “I have enjoyed my visits. Surprised I’ve never run into you.”

Scientia inclines his head, in the effortless-looking graceful way he has about him. Nyx pulls Alstro up closer to Buck and gives Scientia a conspiratorial look, before looking down at the horses.

“Want to see what they can do?”

Scientia catches Nyx’s grin and throws it right back to him. “Are you suggesting a race?”

Nyx motions with his head. “Here, to the giant oak at the top of the hill. You’ll know it when you see it, or you can just follow me, which is what I expect will end up happening.”

Scientia scowls, but it’s playful. “I must say, you have the advantage on your own grounds.”

Nyx leans back in the saddle, all cocky confidence. “I’ll give you a head start if you want.”

Scientia laughs, but shakes his head. “That’s not sporting at all. I’ll have to take my chances with unfamiliar terrain and rely upon this trustworthy hack to guide me.”

Nyx shrugs. “On three, then.”

They dig in their heels and are off like two shots, streaking across the grounds at full speed. The horses are ecstatic; it’s rare that someone allows them their top speed for any length of time, and they stretch out, legs reaching and beating the grass below in an ever-increasing rhythm.

Nyx sneaks looks over at Scientia: focused, controlled, but absolutely gleeful. He shouts as Buckshot leaps a puddle, and Nyx whoops in response, spurring Alstro to catch them. 

They splash through a small creek, and Nyx notices that Scientia doesn’t seem worried at all about muddying his fancy clothes. Scientia stands up in the saddle, and Nyx finds himself admiring the elegant lines of rider more so than horse. 

That is, until Nyx leans into Alstro’s gallop and pulls even with Buck, then overtakes Scientia and flies up the hill to the designated grandfather oak.

The rhythm of hoofbeats slows to a stop, and both men’s breath gusts out of their chests. Nyx dismounts and secures Alstro’s reins over a large branch. He offers a hand down to Scientia, and he takes it, grinning with the same euphoria Nyx feels after the race.

“Come on; there’s a spring a little way down. Perfect reward for all four of us.”

Scientia cocks his head with interest and follows.

Nyx finds the spring, sheltered back behind some rocks, and just sticks his head down to take a drink, like he has since he can remember. This hasn’t always been his home, but it’s always been family land, and Nyx has been scrambling over every nook and cranny of this estate with entirely too many cousins since he learned to walk, and maybe even a little before.

Scientia eyes him dubiously, and Nyx laughs. He peels a little bit of birchbark from a nearby tree, and fashions it into a small cone of a cup with a whirl of his fingers. He fills it with cold, clear spring water and presents it to Scientia as though it were a cup of tea over a formal table at the Duke’s residence. They share another infectious grin. Nyx waits for Scientia to take a long drink, and they retrieve the horses. 

Once the horses are watered and secured again, Scientia flops down unceremoniously next to the towering oak. The grass is lush and inviting, and Nyx sits down next to him, happy for the exertion and the rest. 

He leans his head back against the bark of the tree, and without realizing which one of them has done it, Nyx finds his face dangerously close to Scientia's. 

Long, straight lashes flick down for a moment, and Nyx imagines he can see a slight flush dusting high cheekbones above another studiedly careless ascot.

"I know it isn't done," Ignis says, in an echo of Nyx's words earlier. His eyes flick back up to Nyx's, flashing for a moment in a rare moment of sincerity. “But please, call me Ignis." 

Nyx just nods, slowly. 

Ignis looks over at Nyx, and his gaze lingers inside Nyx’s open collar. Another tattoo, this one a line from behind Nyx’s ear down to his collarbone, graces the line of his neck, and as Ignis looks at it, his lips part.

Nyx’s heart is thundering louder than the horses’ hooves had been earlier, and he licks his own lips and swallows. He’s just drawn into this moment, like a boat pulled into a strong current, and he closes his eyes.

It’s not more than a tickle of breath against his own, and suddenly Ignis stiffens and pulls back. Nyx’s eyes fly open and he stares at him, confused, while Ignis retreats behind a wall of defense, all played out in the expressive green eyes before him.

Nyx doesn’t know if this can possibly get more irritating. This man has been flirting with him since his first visit, and now this? He gets to his feet with a grunt, brushing grass from his trousers with brusque motions. 

“Well, now you’ve seen both horses up close and personal. Time we should be getting back.”

“Indeed.”

Ignis doesn’t turn to look at him the rest of the way back to the manor. Nyx follows him, noting the slight bow to Ignis’ head and feeling more confused than he’s felt in months.

* * *

Amicitia beckons to him from a circle of chattering guests, and Nyx strides over, grinning at Altius and both Amicitias, who are laughing and spirited as usual. They’re just Crowe and Iris and Gladio to Nyx, but he knows he’s got to have all the formalities in place for the evening. Selena whispers in his ear and wanders over to dance with a visiting noble from Tenebrae who Nyx doesn’t know, and he wonders how Selena knows her. He vows to keep an eye on her, and responds to some good-natured ribbing from Gladiolus, the elder Amicitia sibling. 

Nyx delivers sincere compliments about the fancy dress of all three of them, but with his trademark wink, and gets an elbow from Crowe and a giggle from Iris for his trouble. 

The room is straining at the seams, typical of Amicitia’s parties; the lord and his children all seem to have the uncanny ability to meet everyone in a room, and their engaging nature means their invitations are accepted more often than not.

Of course Crowe—Nyx mentally corrects himself—Lady Altius is here, as she’s the heir to the property sandwiched between the Amicitia estate and Nyx’s family’s. _ His _estate, he supposes, still awkward in his new role. But it is good to see familiar faces and respond to the usual jokes and teasing.

The musicians start up the first dance, a rollicking, spirited tune, and Nyx lets Gladio draw him out onto the dance floor. The steps are complicated and quick, and they move well together; they’ve known each other for years and have been at these gatherings together since they were boys.

“Heard you’ve had some interesting company lately.” Gladio glances over his shoulder as Nyx pulls him into a turn.

Nyx raises his eyebrows. The Amicitias aren’t far away, but that’s an awfully quick transfer of information even for a neighbor. He nods. “I have. Interesting is one word for it. Odd and baffling would be two more.”

Gladio gives him an assessing look, and snorts.

“You sure about that?”

Nyx wonders for a moment if Selena has cried rope on him, and just sighs. “I’m not sure what I think, honestly.”

They continue to dance, rising and falling with the music, and Nyx sees Gladio open his mouth.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Warn me. About him. I’ve heard it all, all right? And I’m fully capable of handling myself.”

The music ends, and Gladio takes a step back, holding his palms up toward Nyx in surrender before they bow and retreat to the side of the room.

“I said nothing.”

“You didn’t have to.” Nyx is absolutely not pouting about this, and he definitely doesn’t think about it the entire time one of the incredibly pompous bores from Duscae comes over to chatter about whether or not the Duke of Insomnia will appear at the next fête. 

Gladio laughs at him, but not obviously, and Nyx supposes he is grateful for old friends.

The crowd reemerges in formation for the next dance: an Accordan quadrille, and that’s when Nyx spots him, bowing to Altius behind another group of people. 

Nyx doesn’t know if he’s thankful or annoyed that Ignis—that _ Scientia _isn’t in their group of eight, but he smiles at his partners and engages fully in the dance.

Fully. He’s having a _ wonderful _ time, he thinks forcefully to himself, setting his jaw. Nyx is making what conversation can be heard, bounding joyously from partner to partner, and _ not looking at all _at the group of dancers Ignis has joined. 

Indeed, if Nyx was looking, he would have noticed long-limbed grace, flashing smiles, and the elegant tilt of a beautifully coiffed head, as he’s come to observe is usual. If Nyx was truly staring, he would have seen well-fitted ivory trousers and a jacket in a shade of green that’s all too familiar. Ignis really does shine everyone else in the room down without trying.

He has not noticed any of these things, Nyx tells himself firmly as he bows and smiles and loops his arm through one partner’s, then another. A simple allemande is unfortunately too simple, as it allows his mind to wander to places he’d prefer it didn’t.

The song concludes and Nyx smiles at the group of sparkling, breathless dancers. He stalks over to his table almost angrily and drains a glass of wine, watching the guests mill about and find positions for the next song.

Nyx watches Scientia guide the woman Selena had danced with earlier through a series of intricate turns. There is something coordinated about their finished, impeccable movements and elegant posture. Nyx studies them carefully, while trying very hard to appear as though he is not doing so. 

“That’s his sister.” Gladio's voice breaks into his thoughts. 

“Mhm?” Nyx had lifted a wine glass to his mouth in an attempt to affect nonchalance, but he drops it again and sighs.

“I see you turning eight shades of green. That’s his sister, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. Her older brother is Ravus, the Duke of Tenebrae.”

“Wait, but…”

“Half-siblings; he’s the youngest. Their mother's second husband.”

“I see.”

“You’re obvious.”

“Stop talking, Gladio.”

"Probably not."

He’s the host tonight, so fortunately he can’t tease Nyx forever.

The night has worn on rather late, and the musicians play a newer style of dance; it’s a waltz, and there is a slight murmur as the crowd registers it. Gladio leaves the floor, hauling a disgruntled Iris after him, and Nyx’s gaze darts around, answered by an exasperated gaze from Selena from two tables away. Of course she knows how to conduct herself; he shouldn’t be surprised by that, her look says.

The dancers are coupled closely, and Nyx closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. Gladio’s father, Clarus, although not in attendance tonight, will undoubtedly come down on his oldest child for this impropriety. Still, it’s better to let it play out rather than causing a scene and interrupting the music. He looks over at Gladio and notes that he’s assessed the situation the same way. He’s sat down and is throwing back more wine, making conversation with Crowe and trying to ignore the scene playing out in front of them. Gladio is quickly becoming completely tap-hackled, and Nyx makes a mental note to look after him if need be.

Most of the couples have withdrawn, and attention focuses on the few engaged in the fashionable, relatively scandalous dance. The couples hold each other close—quite close, closer than is thought proper in several circles, and they are certainly testing the limits of that propriety tonight. Nyx watches as a diminutive blond man with a distinctively fussy hairstyle, a freckled countenance, and an outsized swagger whirls by, a sassy silver-haired beauty in his arms. She laughs freely, drinking in the disapproval from the crowd like it’s fine champagne, and grins up into the man’s smirk, pulling him even nearer to her as if in response to some of the gasps and tuts from the older partygoers.

Selena sidles close to Nyx. “That’s Prompto Argentum.”

He nods. “Who’s the woman?”

That gets him a cackle. “Keeping that one to myself, greedy.” 

Nyx turns to scold her—anyone associated with Argentum is not anyone he wants anywhere near his sister—but Selena is already gone, brown eyes twinkling insolently at him from halfway through the crowd.

Nyx supposes he’s being a bit of a hypocrite, and he shrugs and accepts a freshly filled wine glass. He’s still steady enough to steer their little group from too much trouble, he hopes.

And then he catches it. A self-satisfied glint of green eyes behind those silver spectacles from across the room. Nyx catches himself before he outright splutters, and sets his glass down, but he finds himself unable to look away.

A mocking toast, then, and another one of those assessing stares, like Ignis would very much enjoy spinning Nyx around the floor in these less-than-respectable movements. Nyx’s natural brash competitiveness makes his jaw lift up and his own eyebrows quirk in challenge. 

The look Scientia gives him in return would be downright rude if Nyx didn’t like it so much. He feels himself flush and is almost relieved when Lady Altius taps his shoulder. Gladiolus has had a word with the musicians, and this song is another large-group dance, a simple country tune which, while not as cultured as some of the earlier dances, is certainly less risqué.

Nyx dances next to Iris, and her sunny joy is impossible not to reflect back. She tells him all about the recent crop of barn kittens, and he tells her he’ll send for her when their draft mare finally foals. She wants to go to the city and study veterinary medicine, and he encourages her, trying hard not to look in the corner of the room where he’d last seen Ignis. 

When Nyx finally does glance over, he’s gone.

More hours, still, and Nyx greets and mingles with everyone he’s supposed to. Selena gives him the look from across the room that means she’s going to ask that their coach be brought round, and Nyx nods. He’s tired, too, and this has been an entertaining if perplexing evening.

He heads out a side door briefly for some fresh air before being stuffed inside a coach; he can’t be seen by these fashionable people doing what he’d like to do, which is drive the team home himself. 

The air is cool and the grass is slightly damp, and it’s refreshing after the warm crush of bodies inside. He sighs and leans back against a trellis, and it’s then that he spots the glint of those glasses again.

“Lord Galadh.”

Nyx holds up a hand. “Please, I thought we agreed—”

“Quite right,” Ignis pauses for a long moment, “Nyx.” His voice is soft in the deserted garden, and more earnest than Nyx had expected. He doesn’t look tired at all, despite the hour, and he’s still just as sharp and clean-lined as when Nyx had first seen him in the ballroom. In this low light, Nyx can make out the slight bump along Ignis’ nose, and it’s...well, charming. 

“So,” Nyx draws out the word, somewhat reluctant to break the oddly companionable silence between them. “How long do you expect to find yourself here in the countryside?”

Ignis shrugs. It’s an effortless gesture, but with an odd bit of melancholy to it, an apathy that Nyx notices. “Until I tire of it, I suppose, and return to Insomnia.”

Nyx doesn’t want to be taken for an _ on-dit _ who’s been gossiping about every detail of Ignis’ life, but he’s curious. “Not Tenebrae, then?”

A shadow falls over Ignis’ face, and he turns to lean against the trellis as well. “No. Not Tenebrae.”

Nyx wonders what Ignis could possibly have done to make him unwelcome in his own family’s home, but he keeps it to himself. It’s odd, especially given that Ignis’ sister hadn’t cut him and seemed friendly enough. Ignis’ silence means Nyx will just have to wonder, however, and he looks away for a moment.

When he looks back, emerald eyes are shining with something unspoken, and beautiful lips press together in a sad expression. Nyx realizes he wants to kiss them very, very badly, as Ignis turns away without a word. Nyx feels the punch to his gut as Ignis simply walks away, with quick, unrelenting strides, and a certain amount of anger rises.

_ Again _? Nyx needs to stop mooning after this man like a lovesick idiot. He sets his mouth and turns toward the front lawn, where Selena is already waving to him to hurry.

Nyx leans back with a sigh against the seat of the coach, and it’s only then that he realizes that the lavender in his lapel is missing. Nyx closes his eyes. It must have fallen somewhere in all the dancing. 

He lets himself be lulled almost to sleep by the gentle rocking of the carriage, until a sleepy Selena taps his arm. He helps her down and carries her shoes, but once he’s upstairs in his own rooms, Nyx spends a long few moments staring out into the moonlight. He shakes his head once and readies himself for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I have some fun with historical turns of phrase? I did.  
"crying rope" = letting the cat out of the bag  
"tap-hackled" = drunk  
on-dit = literally "one says," a gossip  
cutting = refusing to speak to someone, as a social slight
> 
> Yes, the waltz really was quite scandalous when it came out!
> 
> This incorporates - by a rather large stretch - the prompt "stuck in a small town AU" for 8/7 of Ignyx week.


	3. Chapter 3

It isn’t more than a couple of days before Selena starts wheedling to go into the city. She’d seen all her town friends at the Amicitias’ ball, and it reminded her how much fun there was to be had in Insomnia. Nyx hedges a bit about leaving the estate, but their mother decides the issue in the end. Celeste practically shooes the two of them out the door and insists that he and Selena go and have some fun.

Nyx suspects that his mother wants some of her own space, and also surmises that a few areas of the household will be tweaked to her preferences when they return. When Celeste hustles them into the carriage early Friday morning, Nyx just laughs and kisses her cheek. His mother grasps his hands in her own and looks at him intently. 

"Please try to enjoy yourself, son. You've shouldered so many burdens recently."

Nyx grins at her in gratitude, thinking to himself that with all the authority and nonsense he now navigates, it still feels pleasant to have his mother praise him. 

"I'll do my best." 

“Nyx. _ Nyx.” _

Selena is chattering merrily about various goings-on as the carriage bumps along, and Nyx has, apparently, drifted.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“My goodness, you have been distracted lately. Something—or some_one _occupying your thoughts?” Selena’s own eyes glint mischievously, and Nyx sighs. 

“No, just worried about leaving things."

"She'll be _ fine_, Nyx. You know she ran our own house with an iron fist before Father died. And you know she loves to talk to Jared about…whatever it is they talk about."

"You're right." Jared and Celeste have quite a few shared interests, and Nyx knows his mother won't be bored; she's more likely than not to have paint-stained fingernails upon their return. Whether it will be from overhauling one of the rooms in the manor or creating one of her wild landscapes is what remains to be seen. Nyx also knows that the horses will be well exercised, and if it's apparent upon their return that someone has borrowed his riding trousers, well, Nyx will just pretend not to notice. 

Selena, of course, has Nyx's measure with her first guess, as usual, but he tries to distract himself. 

"Thank you for taking care of all of the, uh, social details." 

She smiles smugly, and he knows she's happy to pick all the visits she'll enjoy the most. 

"So, where are we headed when?" 

She ticks off on her fingers. "Tonight we are invited to dinner with the Argentums…"

Nyx nods. "That's a whole crowd all by itself, but fine." 

"And Saturday we have to go to Aldercapt’s." When Nyx makes a face, Selena sighs. “I know, but we must.”

Nyx leans back in the seat with resignation. “You’re right.” Their father had owed Lord Aldercapt and his friends significant sums of money, and they’ve been absolutely precious about not calling the debt, so long as Nyx and Selena—and occasionally Celeste, though they attempt to save their mother from the worst of it—dance attendance on Aldercapt and his unpleasant group of sour cronies. Nyx has no idea what of value Aldercapt even gleans from their presence, unless it is enough for him simply to enjoy their discomfort. Some people are just suited to enjoy others’ misfortunes, he muses to himself.

Selena pats his arm reassuringly. “Our natural charm never fails; I’m sure it won’t now.”

Nyx cocks an eyebrow at her for including herself in the compliment, and they laugh. 

As the day wears on, fragrant fields give way to cobblestone streets and tightly-packed buildings along irregular, winding streets. The bustle is all its own, though, and Nyx feels energized even as he sees Selena’s brown eyes spark. They always enjoy the whirlwind of Insomnia, despite not being part of the inner social scene. The two of them simply don’t find it terribly important, and don’t care much for the comings and goings of what's fashionable, but they always enjoy city friends and the fast pace.

At the appointed time, they arrive promptly at the spacious and lavish apartments of the Earl and Countess of Besithia. The Countess greets them at the door, apologizing that her husband is running late, and it looks like she has to make this apology quite often.

“He’s—preoccupied with another experiment. I’ll herd him in here as soon as I can.”

Lady Besithia is not what Nyx expects at all. Dark brown hair and eyes, and skin that looked like it tans rather than freckles in the sun. He thinks he contains his surprise, but she shoots him a knowing glance after beckoning the two of them inside. 

She laughs. "Don't worry, I've seen that look before. Every last one of them takes after their father, don't they? It's as if I had no hand in it at all!" While none of the golden heads lining the drawing room matches her chestnut hues, her laugh is free and clear as a bell, and Nyx hears Prompto's birthright from his mother. 

"You know Prompto, I believe, but let me make the usual introductions if I may."

Nyx and Selena nod, and Selena lets out a little overwhelmed laugh at just how many people there are filling the room. 

"This is our oldest, Eros." Filled with genteel confidence, a ten-years-older version of Prompto glides over to shake Nyx's hand and kiss Selena's. This is the sibling Prompto has modeled his fussy, elegant manner after, clearly. His hair is slightly longer and differently styled, but the connection is clear. Eros gives them both a gracious smile but doesn't interrupt his mother as she continues to run through the seemingly endless list of siblings. 

She introduces three more brothers, whose names Nyx struggles to capture but seem to flit from his mind as deftly as they'd swooped in. Velox, Cito, Acutus? He thinks so. 

"And this is Maris." A serious man with close-cropped hair in the same sunny shade as the rest nods at them. Nyx is relieved that at least this brother has a different hairstyle, to help him mark them off as different. Military bearing, Nyx thinks, and Maris seems to recognize something similar about Nyx in the same moment. Nyx acknowledges it with a small quirk of his lips and a return nod, and they're on to the next member of this massive family.

Next are Matthias, Marcus, Celerita and Polly (twins who Nyx will remember simply by virtue of their long, curling hair providing another point of reference), and at the end of the list, Prompto. Prompto grins with all the impetuousness you'd expect from a tenth child and pushes back his chair with easy grace.

“This part is always so exhausting. Dinner, everyone?”

They file into dinner and it’s just as chaotic as Nyx expected. But it’s a pleasant sort of chaos, and he thinks he would enjoy such liveliness every night. There have been some evenings at their own table, especially after the loss of Nyx’s gregarious, talkative father, that have been downright quiet.

Everything is topsy-turvy but friendly, mannerly but loud. The china doesn’t match—how could it, with this many people, Nyx thinks—but it’s not a matter of poverty, just disorganization. The Argentums are ridiculously wealthy, and it shows in the way they feel no need to flaunt it. This is their second home, after all, in addition to the vast Besithia estate that sprawls across the countryside. 

The Duke does eventually make his way to the table, and his deep, rumbling voice is a contrast to all the higher-pitched chatter cascading into Nyx’s ears. He makes his apologies in a perfunctory, careless sort of way, and dinner clatters along comfortably.

Nyx talks about partridge hunting with Velox (or is that Marcus?), history with Eros, border concerns with Maris, and horses with Polly, and he’s proud of himself for keeping up, but at the same time his head is spinning. Selena’s eyes are laughing at him across the table as she somehow continues two conversations at once, while nodding in response to a third next to her.

There’s a brief respite as the dinner concludes and the family retires to various places around the home to relax. As they walk toward the drawing room, Prompto shoots Selena a wink. 

“Heading out to meet some friends in a little while; place called Molly’s. I think you know some of them, Selena. Would you and your brother care to join us?” 

Argentum offers Selena his arm, and Nyx bristles. This family may be entertaining and interesting, but Prompto’s reputation is still Prompto’s reputation, and—

Selena rolls her eyes and jumps in before he can object. “We’d be _ delighted_.”

Nyx sighs, and Selena tosses her head in victory as they make their way from the dinner, thanking their hosts and trying yet again to remember the names of all the Argentums; Nyx thinks that is likely a lost hope at this point, but he makes a valiant effort.

It _ is _ quite nice to be back out in the street again, and it’s not country air, but Nyx breathes easier just the same. Argentum stays just this side of polite with Selena; the occasional quirk of pale eyebrow and glance from the corner of his eye show that he stays aware of Nyx’s presence. Nyx doesn’t grumble. Quite. He wonders about wherever they’re heading, with only a modicum of trust in Prompto that it won’t be a complete disaster.

“Molly’s” turns out to be a tavern vaguely disguised as a townhome, and Prompto leads the way toward one of the back rooms with easy confidence, tipping his hat to the gentleman at the door with familiarity and ushering Selena inside with a grandiose sort of formality that tips over the edge into ridiculousness, seemingly on purpose.

When he knocks on the door—a specific, jaunty little rhythm—a corky, bouncy woman with soft golden curls swings it open.

Upon seeing Prompto, she immediately kisses him on the cheek, smearing it with lipstick.

“Prompto! Such a joy to have you in town. Who are these lovely friends of yours?”

Prompto surrenders Selena’s arm to her, and gives a quick look back at Nyx.

“We tend to go by just first names around here, so you know. Just...easier that way.” The look Prompto shoots Nyx speaks volumes, and Nyx grins in tacit understanding that this place isn’t to be spoken of. A small nagging worry for Selena and gossip tugs at the back of his mind, but she sails into the room with full confidence.

“So nice to meet you. I’m Selena.”

“We don’t use titles around here either, but her beauty is so majestic, I still feel obligated to refer to this stunning woman as Miss Cindy,” Prompto says by way of introduction, making a magnificent leg in Cindy’s direction.

Cindy rolls her eyes. “Just Cindy is fine here. Goodness, Prompto, pick yourself up from the floor and get inside, please.”

Letting a short laugh leave him at their little exchange, Nyx just smiles at her. “Nyx. It’s a pleasure.”

They step inside, and the smoky, jovial scene that awaits them is almost too much to take in at one glance. Prompto immediately leaps aboard the bench in front of the pianoforte jangling from the corner, played by an ostentatiously-dressed auburn-haired man who, without missing a beat, shoves him back off.

Prompto lands with a bounce and a grin. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

The man tosses his head, continuing his lively tune, and teases Prompto in a rich baritone. “Apologies, my boy, I quite took you for someone else.”

“Manners, Prompto,” Cindy teased, and continued. “Everyone, this is Selena and Nyx, friends of Prompto, so treat ‘em nice.”

Undaunted, Prompto takes up a seat that’s clearly familiar to him, pouring a glass of whiskey from a well-stocked sideboard as he goes. He pulls out a sketchbook from somewhere and starts flipping through it, digging a pencil out of his breast pocket. 

A throaty laugh draws Nyx’s attention to the corner, where there’s a serious-looking card game going on. 

Well, the four _ players _look somewhat serious, anyway. There’s a dark-haired man with his collar pulled up like he’d like to avoid being noticed. To his left, a springy-haired woman with a sharp, incisive-looking glance and spectacles smirks. To his right sits a square-jawed man with close-cropped dark hair and an inscrutable poker face. He’s quite handsome, in an uncompromisingly stern sort of way, and...

The fourth player turns his head at their entrance, and Nyx’s heart simultaneously plummets and soars. It’s _ Ignis_, of all the people he should have expected to see but didn’t, and he’s caught in his own ungainly awkwardness, just staring back at him as the pianoforte tinkles and the few candles in the room flicker.

The silver-haired woman from the Amicitas' party is quite unseriously perched on the table, looking at Ignis’ cards and scoffing at his terrible hand, from what Nyx can see. She’s wearing a gorgeously tailored satin crimson suit—with trousers, Nyx notices idly—and her hair is tucked up under a hat, the sharp line of her jaw clearly visible in the candlelight.

Her head turns as Ignis’ does, and a slow catlike grin creeps across wine-red lips. 

“Well,” her deep, throaty voice draws out the first word, “now here are two familiar faces. Bringing quite the lovely glow to this old place.” She looks again at Ignis’ cards and shakes her head gloomily. “For luck. You’ll need it,” she sighs, and kisses his temple lightly. Ignis scowls, and snatches the red-and-gray embroidered handkerchief out of her breast pocket to wipe his face. She cackles, snatches it back, and ruffles his hair before bounding to the door.

“Selena,” she says with a sweep of her arm. “My absolute pleasure. And am I to assume this is…”

“Yes, this is my brother, Nyx.” Selena’s tone is warm. “Nyx, this is Aranea—” she cuts herself off before she can get to the woman’s surname, and honest-to-goodness _ giggles_; it’s quite unlike her. She sounds like she is raising some kind of breeze, and they’ve only just arrived.

“Nice to meet you.” Nyx nods at Aranea, and she leans forward and grasps his hand in a firm handshake.

Ignis’ eyes widen for a brief moment, and then the jovial mask settles. He stands up, carefully laying his cards face down on the table first and nodding to his fellow players, all while smoothing hair back into place after Aranea's interference.

“An honor indeed.” His smile is razor-edged, but his manner is, if anything, more formal than anyone else in the room. “Please. This is Cor. Cor, Nyx and Selena.”

Nyx feels swiftly inventoried by Cor’s clear blue eyes, more so than he has in a while, but he smiles and nods as Ignis continues to make introductions.

“And this is Sania, who I do _ not _ suggest you play cards against unless you’ve significant funds to lose.” Sania grins, and shrugs at Nyx and Selena, but doesn’t brush off the compliment.

“And here we have…” Ignis’ eyes narrow at the younger man with long, dark hair, and it’s clear they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation. He looks familiar, but Nyx can’t quite place it.

“Uh, Noct...gar.” He smiles weakly at them, friendly enough, but clearly at a bit of a loss. 

If Nyx hadn’t been paying such close attention over the past few weeks to Ignis’ expressions, he would have missed it, but he sees Ignis biting back a laugh, and the twitch that threatens at his lips is downright charming.

The dark-haired man who’s done the worst job of giving a false name Nyx has ever seen gives a little wave, and Nyx nods back. “Good to meet you, Noctgar.”

They’re a colorful bunch, and clearly comfortable with each other. Nyx lets Selena drift away from him without too much of a protest; they both have enough acquaintances here that it’s sufficient to make things slightly less than awkward. 

Acquaintances. Right. Definitely not people they keep running into who keep making their cheeks flush and their heads spin. Nyx looks away from Selena’s grin and stuffs his hands in his pockets. 

“Please, don’t let me keep you from your game.” Nyx nods back toward the table. 

Ignis gives him an odd little smile and sits back down at the table. Inspired by Prompto’s choice, Nyx moves toward the little cart of cut-glass bottles and raises an eyebrow at Prompto in question. Receiving a grand sweep of an arm in toast as a response, Nyx pours his own glass of amber liquid, sipping it slowly and wandering back toward the table to watch the card game play out.

Nyx drifts around the room as the game progresses, and manages to catch a few peeks at Prompto’s drawings. Most of them are nudes (putting it mildly), and he has to resist the temptation to roll his eyes, but there’s a frankness and movement to them that’s quite impressive. They capture moments that seem mundane or ordinary, but illustrate the personalities of their subjects clearly, and Nyx respects his talent. He hadn’t expected much beyond gambling, drinking, and fast talking from Prompto, but he’s more than meets the eye, it seems.

Nyx’s steps take him in concentric circles around the room, and he meets a few more folks—all first names only of course—who are varying degrees of jovial and welcoming. If this is where the disreputable congregate, he thinks, based on the presence of Ignis and Prompto, it’s more comfortable and less scandalous than he might have imagined.

He’s not even surprised at himself when he makes his way back to the card table. Ignis takes the entire hand, easily, his oddly-named partner across the table contributing little to the effort. Sania scowls and Cor's jaw twitches, but his face otherwise remains impassive. 

A slight but boisterous man with a sweep of pale hair falling in his face slides into Ignis’ place with a nod, grinning around the table.

“Sania. Cor. Ezio.”

_ Ezio? I thought his name was Noctgar. _

Nyx shrugs and laughs to himself and lets Ignis lead him away from the table. It’s his turn for a drink, and he offers to refresh Nyx’s glass. Against Nyx’s better judgment, he lets him. 

A man taps at the door, is admitted, and approaches the animated pianoforte player. Nyx blinks, because the man looks so much like Prompto, who he could swear was sketching in the corner. He is, Nyx confirms, so this blond Argentum must be one of the brothers. A closer look reveals that it’s clearly not Prompto— the man has none of his animated energy and this time, when he nudges in close on the piano bench, he’s welcomed with a chuckle and a kiss. Nyx finally sorts through his memory to recognize Eros, the oldest of the clan. 

Eros rises smoothly after a moment and takes a violin from a case on the floor, and they play together, music winding through and filling the small room with warmth.

Cindy curls up right on the floor next to a woman with light brown hair wearing a contented smile; she reaches down and places a bright pink flower into Cindy’s hair. They clasp hands and sway to the music.

Nyx lets Ignis take a deep sip of the Old Tom in his glass before asking, “So how did you pull that off? I thought you had a terrible hand.” 

Ignis grins, realizing Nyx is recalling Aranea’s teasing earlier.

"She was bluffing. Or, should I say, helping _ me _bluff? Either way, I won that round quite easily.”

“Ah.” Nyx has been at a loss for words all evening, and this is no different. Ignis gives him a sly smile. 

“Not everything is what it seems here; don’t necessarily take it at face value. That said, we’re all being more honest here than we are in day-to-day life, in many ways.”

Nyx takes a large sip of whiskey. “Is—Aranea… are she and you…?” The lack of formal titles makes everything more immediate, more intimate, and Nyx stumbles over the question. He regrets it the moment it leaves his mouth.

“There is water under that particular bridge, yes. Long past. Does that trouble you?” Ignis tips his head, assessing Nyx’s response.

Nyx goggles for a moment, and then laughs. “No? Well done?”

Ignis laughs back, and the crinkle around his eyes is something Nyx wants to make happen again and again. They linger, unspeaking for a while, and a few of the assembled company pair off and start to dance to the pretty pianoforte and violin duet from the corner.

Nyx thinks to himself about how they hadn’t had the opportunity to dance together at the Amicitias’ party, and the glint in the green eyes watching him tells him Ignis just might be thinking the same. There’s an all-too-convenient side table for their drinks, as well.

Ignis gives him an overly formal bow, given the circumstances, which makes Nyx laugh, and … it’s not like he’s going to be able to resist this, is he?

The casual atmosphere and the lack of formal gloves means that Ignis’ skin brushes his own when they clasp hands, and Nyx wonders why he tells himself the dwindling lie that the heat is from the liquor he’s been drinking.

They fit together too well for people who have just met, Nyx thinks, as they drift slowly in what is more of a loose stroll around the room and less of any specific dance Nyx knows. The awkwardness falls, though, like the jacket Ignis tossed over a chair earlier, and there’s no hesitation in their steps. 

Ignis looks straight into his eyes, and Nyx has been misreading a lot lately, but there’s no mistaking the longing he sees there. When Nyx rests his hand at Ignis’ waist, he’s sure he feels Ignis settle into his touch. 

They’re closer than would be respectable anywhere else, and it’s taking everything Nyx has not to make full contact. He satisfies himself with tilting his head toward Ignis, close enough to see the dark-fern rim around the bottle-green of Ignis’ eyes, and the tiny flecks of brown, too far scattered to be freckles, dotting the surface of his skin.

Nyx is staring, and Ignis is no better. 

“Don’t.” His voice is soft, so soft, whispering across Nyx’s lips.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t take up with me. It wouldn’t be proper at all.”

“Maybe I don’t care.” Nyx leads Ignis in a slow turn, watching the line of his body as he returns to him. The soft light in the room etches the edges of Ignis’ profile, and as Nyx follows it with his eyes, he sees Ignis watching him as well. 

Nyx has had too many false starts from Ignis to venture any further, and because of all those moments Ignis has abruptly cut short, Nyx is surprised when this time, he just…doesn't. 

Their lips meet as easily and seamlessly as they'd danced. The sheer gentleness and sweetness of it belies every crass rumor Nyx has heard about this man. He closes his eyes into it, and hears a small sound from the back of Ignis' throat echo the longing he'd seen in his face earlier. 

Ignis pulls back, gently, but his face is closed and stern. His thumb lingers at the edge of Nyx's jaw. 

"That was—a mistake, but unlike most of mine, not one I'll regret. Please, listen to people when they warn you about me."

Their stillness is shattered by his sudden movement. Ignis whirls from the room, nearly forgetting his jacket in his rush to be off.

Nyx is left with his mouth open and his chest feeling like it’s cracked in half. He’s just still for a few moments before Selena comes to drag him off.

“It appears your entertainment has departed.”

The hurt look Nyx shoots her is quick and he stifles it, but Selena flinches anyway. “Sorry.”

“Where have you been?” It’s a stupid question; it’s a small room, but Nyx is well aware that his attentions have been focused to a pinpoint the last few hours.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun tonight, did you?” She's remarkably cryptic, but she looks happy. Nyx runs his hand over his jaw, almost unconsciously. Not quite. 

"So you've enjoyed yourself?” They make polite bows and waves and head outside to hail a carriage home. It's late, they are not in the best part of town, and Selena is walking like her fancy slippers are hurting her feet. 

“I did.” Selena takes his hand up into the carriage and smooths her skirts primly. Nyx notices a filmy pewter handkerchief with claret roses on it sticking out of her reticule, but she quickly stuffs it back out of sight before he can say anything and refuses to meet his eyes.

Nyx just sighs and leans against the carriage window. What a mess. And they have to see Aldercapt tomorrow. Nyx despises Aldercapt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Yes, Prompto’s last name is Argentum here and his parents are the Earl and Countess of Besithia. It’s like how the Duke of Cambridge’s last name is Windsor. Sometimes last names and titles match, but often they don’t. As a younger son, Prompto uses the family name.
> 
> \- “Molly’s” is a tribute to “molly-houses,” places LGBT+ folk would meet privately in the 18th and 19th century. I’ve chosen not to include period-specific homophobia in this AU, but wanted to feature a little nod to this part of history.
> 
> \- Eros belongs to [bluebottle762](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebottle762); Maris and Matthias belong to [MagitekUnit05953234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/); thank you for letting me borrow them!
> 
> \- corky: bright and lively  
\- Old Tom: gin  
\- making a magnificent leg: bow deeply  
\- raising some kind of breeze: up to some mischief

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Xylianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/pseuds/Xylianna) for the excellent beta! She writes some amazing and engaging stories—go check them out! 
> 
> As frequently happens with me, this has [its own playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/disb2q5z6rkhfndcs9zab02bw/playlist/7ipR2So1MnCLqDgeVFiWI9?si=-VIKCnZ7RbqKqVonO_4b5A); VERY anachronistic, you have been warned. :)
> 
> I'm always grateful for kudos and comments. Thank you for reading! You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Stopmopingstart).


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